It could be you
by navax
Summary: Tiffany suffers from schizoid personality disorder which makes her incapable of developing intimate relationships with others. When it is "time to mate", Tiffany decides to go through a casting process and finds an unexpected ally in the face of Pat, a lowlife skipper, whose moto is "no strings attached". Together they will embark on a life changing journey.
1. Intro

Schizoid personality disorder they called it. This pretty much summed up to what June had described as "bloody cold" a long time ago. They were still children, Tiffany maybe seven or eight years old at the time, and they were left alone to stroll around the playground on a sunny August day. Mom was nearby chatting up the neighbours, entangled in an intriguing gossip-like conversation. Tiffany was sitting by the side of a bench. She was feeling particularly bored and enjoyed doing nothing but staring at some swans swimming in the nearby pond. Her sister, June, on the other hand, was hyperactive as usual. Two years younger than Anna, June was a little devil incarnated in the flesh and bones of a six year old. She would laugh and run and spit and swear, bursting out the few "forbidden" words she knew at any given chance, and then laugh and run again. That was life for June. Easy as it gets. And surprisingly enough, this feeling of easiness would accompany her throughout her entire life. If Tiffany could feel jealousy, it would be the one thing that would definitely make her envy June. Lucky for her, this was not the case.

It didn't take long for the drama to begin. June was playing by the pond, an inane game of throwing pebbles at the swans that swam scared away to opposite directions. She was laughing almost hysterically as the little creatures struggled to avoid her blows. It was only a few minutes after she had started her game that Tiffany shouted at her to stop. Not that she felt any sympathy for the birds but this whole fuss disturbed her in some peculiar way. On that morning she wanted nothing more than some brain numbing peace and quiet and her sister was doing anything in her power to prevent her from having it. Tiffany's wishes left June indifferent. But then again this was only typical since, despite the two-year gap that separated them, June was used to defying her older sister, who normally would do absolutely nothing in return. This was not one of these days.

A whole fifteen minutes had passed and June was still enjoying herself, not halfway bored with her harassment game. Tiffany stood up calmly and trod lightly to her side. She gazed down at her sister, a few inches shorter than her, with her funny freckles and her grim smile, and then she suddenly raised her arms and pushed her to the ground with all her force. In an instinctive reaction June backtracked towards the pond but lost her balance and fell full-length onto the water. Her scream broke the morning's silence. She hardly knew how to swim and was now struggling, swinging her arms and knees in agony, trying to surface. Tiffany remained stationary and unperturbed, observing her sister from above with a void look upon her face, while June was swallowing mouthfuls of water and letting out fade cries asking for help.

Some people suddenly arrived to the rescue, mom among them. She pushed Tiffany aside, only to find out that June had already been pulled out of the pond by an eighth-grader a few seconds earlier. The girl was soaking wet, trembling, mostly of fear than of cold, and holding her right arm in pain. She was yelling and moaning as mom picked her up and carried her to the family's station-wagon. Tiffany came along followed by a few other curious bystanders. Once the doors of the station-wagon closed, Tiffany in the front seat, maintaining her detached style, mom turned to her in fury:

"What on earth were you doing back there? Why didn't you help your sister?"

"She pushed me, mom. SHE did it!", whined June from the backseat.

That was a shock; one that mom had to take a few moments to digest.

"Did you really push her?", she asked finally.

Tiffany nodded affirmatively.

"Why the hell would you do such a thing?", the woman yelled.

Tiffany shrugged her shoulders but said nothing. She had no idea why she had done it, nor any regret about it for that matter.

"She's mean, mom." June's weeping had now turned insanely loud. She was dangling her arm in the air, the emotion of pain drawn across her face. "I hate you!", she shouted at Tiffany. "You… you're bloody cold. And mean. That's what you are…"

The aftermath of that day's incident was a broken limb for June and the beginning of a series of psychiatric sessions for Tiffany, only to find out that what her sister had so eloquently described as "bloody cold" actually had a name. It was called schizoid personality disorder, which, to put it in simple words, meant that she was emotionally numb, lacking all these notions that people call intimacy and affection and that, pretty much, make us… human. And now that she knew the name, Tiffany needed only to come to terms with one more thing. That she would live with this disease her entire life.


	2. Chapter 1

"Hey, Pat, there's a lady outside looking for you…"

It was a hot day and Pat was sitting behind his desk with an old fan blowing cool waves of air to his face. This however didn't stop him from sweating like mad underneath his shirt while playing backgammon on a pc of indefinable age. Located on the north side of Portland's Marine Drive, alongside the banks of Columbia River, "Murphy & Johnson Portland Sailing Inc." was nothing but a dusty small space of around 250 square feet with a kitchenette and a toilet room by one side. A desk, two chairs and a worn-out sofa was all the furniture the place could afford, all Pat really needed. That and his liquor cabinet. As long as it was filled with alcohol everything was fine.

"Looking for me?", he asked, a bored tone in his voice. He raised his head from the pc only to see his partner John devouring a tuna sandwich. John was a chubby guy with silver hair and a sunburned, tired face, an indisputable temoignage of the long hours spent below the hot Oregon sun.

"Yeap!", replied John. "Your lucky day, you old dog you…"

"Is she any good?", smirked Pat.

"Wouldn't throw her off my boat.. or my bed for that matter". Finishing his sentence, John gave out a loud laugh, amused by his own joke.

"Well then, what are you waiting for? Tell her to come in", Pat urged him.

"I'm not your secretary you know..", grumbled John. He gobbled the last bite of his sandwich, swept his mouth with the back of his hand and then he vanished without saying a word.

It was only a few seconds later that she came in. With her light walk and a timid air about her. She was no more than thirty, a tall thin girl, wearing jeans and a loose blouse, no make-up on. Plain but cute in a way. She walked towards Pat, sat on a chair on the other side of the desk, opposite him, and gave him a faint smile.

"I've been told you do boat deliveries", she said.

"Among other things…", he replied, a saucy glimpse in his eyes. "What type of vessel are we talking about?"

"An I-36. It's anchored here in Portland. I need to transfer it to San Fran."

"That's an old vessel…", Pat observed. "And a long trip. Could be two, even three weeks of sailing depending on weather conditions."

"I am aware", agreed the woman. She had this deadpan look, her face void of any expression. There were a few seconds of silence until Pat finally decided to speak again.

"We haven't met before, have we?", he asked her inquisitively. She made an affirmative head nod.

"Pat Murphy". He stood up from his chair offering her his hand. As she didn't take it, he pulled it awkwardly back to the side of his thigh.

"Tiffany Weiss". That's all she said.

"So, who told you about me?" He was still standing up, his question accompanied by an examining gaze.

"My father", Tiffany answered.

Pat thought about it for a few seconds and then, suddenly, a bell rang somewhere in the back of his head.

"Wait… Is your father Rob Weiss? He owns an I-36 so it must be him! Nice guy. We've had many interesting chats the two of us. It's always nice to find someone who loves the sea and the booze as much as I do", winked Pat and added: "Haven't seen him in a while though. How is he?"

"He's dead". She said these words so calmly, like talking about the weather. For a short moment, Pat was shocked and just stood there staring at her, trying to digest the news.

"I'm really sorry", he mumbled in the end. "He was a good man. When did it happen?"

"It's been a couple of months", Tiffany replied.

And then, once again, there was this awkward silence between them.

"Why do you want to take the boat to San Fran?", he asked her finally.

"My sister lives there with her family. They're all into sailing and now with dad gone I thought she should have the boat".

"I see.." He turned the pages of an empty calendar sitting on the desk in front of him. "So, is beginning of next week ok for you? It is the end of August now and the weather starts getting all weird from mid September. Wouldn't want to risk travelling under difficult conditions… Of course, I would need to check the weather forecast first."

"Next week is as fine as ever", shrugged Tiffany. "But", she paused for a couple of seconds, "I want to come along."

Pat was surprised.

"Really?", he said. "I mean, I could use all the extra help but I have to be honest, it's not an easy trip. Do you even know how to sail?"

"I used to sail with my father. When I was younger. It must be five years I haven't set foot on a sailboat though…", she answered honestly.

"And you're absolutely sure you want to do this? As I said before, it's not an easy one and you can count on long hours of beating into the wind."

"I am absolutely sure", Tiffany declared with certainty.

"Ok then. Your money, your choice", nodded Pat.

Tiffany hesitated a little but then spoke again in a serious tone:

"There's one more thing I need to tell you. You see, chatting may have been my dad's cup of tea, but it is not my forte."

"No kidding", said Pat, his voice slightly mocking.

"I'm kind of… a loner, and would prefer to have some peace and quiet on the boat". She had taken on a shy expression now and you could tell the discussion made her feel uncomfortable.

"Fine with me", said Pat. "You can sit and stare at the ocean all day long for what I care…"

"We have a deal then", sighed Tiffany.

"Not quite yet", argued Pat. "First, we need to talk about my fee…"


End file.
